


If Change Were Easy

by mckinlily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckinlily/pseuds/mckinlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If change were easy, you would have changed months ago. If change happened with just a thought and then ‘poof’ it’s done, you would be perfect by now." But it's not. It's James Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts, and he's about find out there's a lot of he needs to change and no, it won't be easy. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Change Were Easy

You’re sixteen and arrogant, and you’re trying hard to stay that way.

It isn’t easy, though. Not when all summer words like “arrogant, bullying toerag” and “You makes me SICK!” roll through you’re head whenever it gets too quiet. You deal. You make lots of noise. You and Sirius tear through the summer with all the energy and as little forethought as you can manage. You blow things up, you break laws, Sirius gets that motorbike he’s been dreaming about since he heard a Muggle father describe it as “an unsafe, obnoxious monstrosity” and the two of you give your mother a heart attack flying down roads at break-neck speeds and learning about things Muggles call “traffic laws” and “speed limits.”

Still, Sirius’s rowdy Muggle music can’t play all the time, and eventually, Remus and Peter have to go home. In the quiet moments, early in the morning when you finally succumb to the need to sleep, you stare at the ceiling above you, and you remember the things you’d rather forget. Insults that normally bounce right off you seem to want to stick. And you think… Well, you think that maybe you should think more.

But you brush it off in the morning. You’re James Potter, confident, popular, gut-wrenchingly funny. Defender of blood equality and mischief. You don’t need to change.

* * *

 

 School starts, and Sirius jabs you in the ribs at the glimpse of red hair on the platform and Remus gives his good-natured eye roll. Perhaps it’s Remus that does it, but you don’t run after her. You don’t want her anyway. She’s self-righteous, and she isn’t impressed by you, so what do you care? You especially don’t want her words to be rolling around in your head any more.

It’s funny because she never used to notice you. You used to have to call your loudest, be at your funniest, play to your most dramatic to get her to look at you. But today she catches your eye and glares at you. “Stay away from me.”

You’re happy to comply.

She’s already done the damage, though, and even at school, her words slip into your mind at night. You’ve just about decided she’s a daft cow who hasn’t got a clue what’s what and even less of a sense of humor, but maybe she does know just a little about _something_. You decide it wouldn’t hurt to try to be a little nicer.

But it’s no big deal.

* * *

You throw yourself into school at a full out run. You practice quidditch with the team three nights a week, and you play any other time you can manage. You plan pranks with the Marauders and burst your sides laughing when McGonagall’s face goes white. You try to get Peter to talk to that curly-haired girl he keeps staring at, and you’re finally able to run around with Moony again.

You meet Chloe Andelan. She’s a year older, dramatic, and just a little bit clumsy. But she thinks everything you do is absolutely hilarious, she isn’t afraid to be wildly excited about anything, and you find you enjoy flirting with her. She’s been skinny-dipping in the lake, she once danced to the Beatles on top of the staff table on a dare, and she will race through the corridors with you after you and Sirius drop a budging bag of Dugbombs in Filch’s office.

She thinks you’re perfect.

You think you’re pretty darn near perfect, too. You run through the halls, and everyone loves you. You tease and prank, and everyone laughs. Peter thinks you’re amazing, but then, he always has. You and Sirius are having the time of your lives. But sometimes you catch Remus’s bit lip, and you remember you might be kinder. And you’re trying. You really are. But then you’re in the moment, and it’s so funny, and everyone is egging you on, and you maybe forget. But it’s not really a big deal, is it? Just one little mistake.

* * *

Chloe kisses you. You’ve just won the first Quidditch match of the year, and during the after party, she kisses you. You kiss her back, but it still takes you two days to realize you should ask her out. Sirius takes the mickey out of you when you finally realize it. The two of you -- you and Chloe, not you and Sirius -- go on a couple of dates. You’re starting to think you really like this girl. She’s funny. Sirius likes her. Even Remus is comfortable with her. You could do worse.

* * *

 

Snape is in the hospital wing, and McGonagall is furious. You try to explain that you’re only paying him back for that time he tried to jinx your broom, but she won’t listen. She never does. She goes on about something to do with “inappropriate use of magic” and “emotional damage,” but you don’t listen. You never do.

Peter is quivering -- he’s still convinced McGonagall is the scary lady you all thought she was in first year, but you know better. So does Sirius. Remus should too, but he’s studying a scuffmark on the floor and rubbing at it with his toe.

Outside the hospital wing, you run into Evans.

“Here to weep over your friend?” you call, though, really, you know it’s rude.

Evans scowls. “We’re not friends anymore.”

You wonder how you could have ever fancied a girl this grumpy.

It’s news to you that she and Snape are no longer friends. 

* * *

 

You’re considering asking Chloe to be your girlfriend. You’re already pretty much unofficially dating. Sirius just rolls his eyes when you bring it up. Peter gets really excited. He thinks that you should ask her really fancy like with chocolate or flowers or something. He’s such a secret romantic.

* * *

When McGonagall pulls you out of the Gryffindor common room -- just you, no Sirius -- you’re expecting trouble. You try to convince her that you haven’t done anything wrong, but she won’t even say a word. When you get her office and see your parents waiting, you groan.

“James, you’re not in trouble,” says your dad, and you drop into a chair, scowling, not believing him one bit and sure you’re going to be lectured in one of your parents’ rare discipline kicks.

They don’t have a lecture of you. They have worse.

Your mother’s ill. Really ill. You wish she hadn’t shown up with dark circles under her eyes to tell you this. They try to tell you that the healers have dealt with this illness before and are very capable.

They also tell you she could die.

Your father tells you that there are many techniques that the healers can use to treat her, that it’s really not a hopeless case, but all you hear is that phrase, slipped in as quickly and invisibly as possible, but still there all the same, “There’s no cure exactly, but…” You don’t want to hear the but’s. You don’t want to hear there’s not cure.

You’re getting pretty upset. You won’t admit it, but it must have shown on your face because your mother leans forward and squeezes your hand.

“You shouldn’t be too surprised, James,” she says sincerely. “We, your father and I, are old, and death is a natural part of life. This is to be expected. It had to happen some time.”

At that, you storm away, the door slamming behind you. 

* * *

It’s a good thing McGonagall had the foresight to tell Sirius, too, because you don’t want to talk about it. It’s not fair. This shouldn’t happen. Your mother shouldn’t be ill. She shouldn’t die. Parents aren’t supposed to die, not now. Not until their kids are old and parents themselves.

You’re angry. You’re angry at the healers for not being able to fix your mum. You’re angry at you parents for just accepting this. You’re angry at McGonagall for telling you. You’re angry at everyone because no one is doing anything to help your mother. You see kids laugh in the hallways, and you’re angry because don’t they care that you’re mother’s ill, maybe dying? You see people cry, and you want to slam them into a wall because what are they’re sniveling troubles compared to yours? No one is hurting as much as you. No one can feel the way you do.

Peter pats you on the shoulder and says, “I’m sorry.” Remus looks at you with that pitying, too sharp gaze. He asks if you want to talk, offers to listen. You refuse. You don’t want his or anyone’s help. No one can help your mother, and you don’t want them helping you.

Only Sirius understands. Only Sirius understands your need to _do something_ \-- if that be hexing people in the hallways just because you can, so be it. Only Sirius gets how much you’re hurting. 

* * *

You refuse to stop. You refuse to let concern or fear or anything slow you down. No one can understand how you ache, so you refuse to show it. Sirius is right beside you.

You run full force. You hex people. You get detention. You hex people again. You get more detentions. You pull pranks, destroy school property. Your detentions are piling up at an alarming rate. You don’t care. You point your wand at whomever you chose.

It’s been a week. McGonagall calls you into her office, her face weary. She says she understands how you’re feeling, and you say she’s lying. She tells you you’re behavior is unacceptable. You say you don’t care. She says in the past six days alone you’ve racked up nine detentions. She rubs the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses, looking at you with something like pity, and asks you if you need to talk. You snap at her. You don’t need to talk. You’re fine. And she should keep her ugly nose out of your business. McGonagall scowls and tells you that if you get another detention in the next week, you’re out of the next Quidditch match.

You can’t tell if you care. 

* * *

You’ve got your wand out, and Avery is on the floor when an angry voice rings out through the hall.

“Potter, what do you think you’re doing!”

Typical, you think. Evans only notices you when she thinks you’re doing something wrong.

“Teaching a lesson,” you say with a cheeky smile that’s not meant to be friendly.

“By hexing someone beyond recognition!” she shrieks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say. “He’s always looked something like an slug to me.” Sirius starts snickering beside you.

Evans storms up to you, her hands on her hips. “You think this is funny! What’s he done to deserve this!”

“C’mon, you hate Avery. He uses Dark Magic, for Merlin’s sake!”

Evans goes white. You’ve seen Evans mad plenty of times, and you’ve seen her face as red as her hair, but you’ve never seen her go white. This isn’t scared or shocked white either. It’s livid.

“You _disgust_ me, Potter!” she says in something between a shriek and a hiss. “You think you’re better than him just because you don’t use Dark Magic?”

“Well,” you say because it’s obvious, “I don’t.”

If possible, Evans gets even angrier. “You’re such a bloody hypocrite, Potter! Do you think you’re home free just because you don’t use Dark Magic? You say you hate Death Eaters, but you make sport of people weaker than you for fun just like they do! You get a kick out of hurting other people just like --!”

“I’M NOT A DEATH EATER!” you shout.

“Well, you’re as bad as,” she spits. “Or did you think words couldn’t hurt worse that curses?” 

* * *

_You’re as bad as a Death Eater_. The words don’t just haunt your quiet moments; they drown out even the loudest noise. At first, you’re furious at her. She had no right, like Sirius said for hours after the incident. But you can’t get the words out of you’re head. You’re as bad as a Death Eater. You _hate_ Death Eaters. They’re the incarnate of evil for you. You can’t be like them.

You stop racking up detentions. 

* * *

Like she hit you over the head and jolted your eyes back into their proper place, you suddenly see things you didn’t before the Evans incident. You finally open the letters your mother has sent you daily since you stormed out on her. You read her increasingly worried tone, and when you send her a reply, you make it as kind as you can. You see Remus’s questions aren’t judgmental but caring and that he understands, in his own way. You remember that other students in the school are losing parents. And not all of them get to say goodbye.

You see other things. You see you’re anger isn’t fair. You don’t want to give it up because you’re afraid you’ll deflate to an empty shell on the floor if you do. But finally, though it doesn’t happen overnight, you let go. You do deflate, but you’re friends prop you up. Peter brings you food. Remus keeps you moving forward. And Sirius is always there, arm around you, sometimes all but holding you up, and more often than not, the only person who can make you smile lately.

You send your mother another letter. You ask her to get better soon.

You start to see not everyone laughs at your jokes. Everyone thinks you’re hilarious -- except the person you’re teasing. You used to say that people just didn’t have a good sense of humor, but every time you try to use that excuse now, the words _You’re as bad as a Death Eater_ float through you’re head.

You see that Evans isn’t right. You’re not a Death Eater. You’d never kill. You don’t judge people based on their blood. You don’t want wizard domination. But you also see Evans has a point. Death Eaters aren’t the only bad people in the world.

You don’t want to be another brand of Death Eater. 

* * *

You decide to try to change. You start by not taking out you’re fear for your mother on everyone around you. You let your mates in, and you don’t punish people for laughing or crying any more. You play in that Quidditch match McGonagall threated to keep you out of. You write your parents. Twice a week, more regularly than you ever have before. You start to pay more attention to your jokes. 

* * *

Chloe asks you to be her boyfriend. You agree. She makes you feel safe, not so raw and vulnerable as you’ve been feeling lately. Besides Sirius, no else is as good at making you laugh. You need the break. 

* * *

You can’t stop seeing. You thought your jokes were mostly harmless, just sometimes taken too far, but you start to see that some shoulders don’t come up after you’re done with them. You see some people move out of your way as you stride down the hall. When you confront them about it, you see that they are scared.

You start looking back. You don’t like it. You never believed in living in the past, but now you wonder if you were running from it. There are moments, moments you’d like to forget or have never to have happened, that you’re ashamed of. You see that you’re not the person you want to be.

You need to change. 

* * *

You start to hear. Not just the praises and the laughter, but the whispers.

“Don’t cross Potter, or you’ll end up hexed into next week.”

“The Marauders are funny, but you don’t want to be on the receiving end of some of their pranks.”

“Just be careful. Potter isn’t known for caring about other people’s feelings.”

What happened? When did you become like this? Or were you like this all along and just too arrogant to realize what you were? 

* * *

You’re doing better. You’re still scared for you’re mum, but the healers think they’ve found a potion that’s working. Evans hasn’t yelled at you in weeks. McGonagall gave you a grim smile -- before she realized you’d doused all the armor knights in bubotuber pus. You’re happy with Chloe, who, it turns out, is a slightly bossy girlfriend, but only in the sense that she knows exactly what she wants and lets you know. You much prefer this to other girls who expect as much but won’t tell you a thing. You wish it was enough to get right of the whispers of _as bad as a Death Eater_ at night, but perhaps you need the reminder.

* * *

Remus is digging a toe into the carpet again. “I just don’t think that was a really good thing to do,” he says, not looking you or Sirius. “That wasn’t fair, even they were Slytherins.” With a sinking feeling, you have to admit he’s right. You tell him you’re sorry, but he’s giving you this sad look, like you don’t get it. But you don’t understand what you don’t get. 

* * *

Your mother’s in remission! The illness is gone, and as long as it doesn’t come back, she’s basically cured! You celebrate by dancing around the dorm and setting fireworks off the Astronomy Tower. McGonagall catches you, but you don’t think she’s too mad because she only set you one detention and she lets you and your mates all serve together. You give her a bright smile, and Sirius calls her, “Minnie,” and maybe you just made her regret being kind to you. You’re too happy to care, though.

You’re starting to think that you’re okay again. In some sense, you’ve worked it out that your mother’s illness was the universe knocking some sense into you, and now that you’ve got your act together, she’s better. You know it doesn’t really make sense, but it’s how you feel. You think something you feel this strongly about has to be true.

You and Sirius are back to racing through life full steam, dragging Remus and Peter along with you. You’re laughing and impulsive again, though you do try to pay a little more attention to your effect on others. Really, though, you’re seriously cool. You’re trying to be kind and your mother is in remission, so you must be doing all right.

You’re starting to feel kind of proud of yourself. 

* * *

You’ve messed up. You don’t know why or how it happened, but you’ve seriously messed up. McGonagall drags you to Dumbledore’s office all because someone’s head is a little bigger than normal. You almost think it’s nothing, but when Dumbledore hears the whole story and fixes you with that sad, disappointed stare, you know it’s not.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, I had hoped you would find better uses for your extraordinary talents.”

You wish he hadn’t said that.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part is confronting Remus. You’re all in your dorm, and finally, you have to say it.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Moony?”

Remus looks up at you, surprised and a little nervous.

“C’mon,” you say. “You knew we were out of order. Why didn’t you say so?”

Remus mumbles something incoherent, but even though you can’t hear his words, you know what he’s saying. He was afraid. You’re his best friends, and he was afraid you’d be angry if he said anything. That’s how it’s always been. He’s never been as stupid as you -- he knows what’s right and wrong -- but he’s afraid to tell you. It’s stupid because you’d never drop him. But it’s true.

And it hits you in the gut. You always figured you could rely on Remus as the conscience of the group. But what good is a conscience that doesn’t say anything? It hurts, too, realizing that Remus doesn’t trust you enough to speak his mind.

After everyone else is asleep, you talk to Sirius. He agrees that the two of you were out of line, but he isn’t as worried about it as you. Frankly, you knew he wouldn’t be. You love Sirius, but he’s a little bit wild. He doesn’t feel this pressing need to be better like you do. You know that if you were to start bringing it up too often, he’d call you a swot, boring, and maybe a little pathetic.

You realize that if you’re going to change, you’re going to have to do it alone. You can’t rely on Remus or Sirius to hold you back. You’re going to have to listen to your own conscience. It sounds terrifying. You’re not even sure your conscience works right. If you’re going to rely on you, just you, you almost think you might as well give up now.

But then you see a Slytherin bullying younger students. You want to tell him off, but you remember a year ago, you were doing the same thing. And you remember that there’s someone better you want to be. 

* * *

Evans has a boyfriend. You don’t know why it’s important or why it bothers you; it just is and it does. 

* * *

If change were easy, you would have changed months ago. If change happened with just a thought and then ‘poof’ it’s done, you would be perfect by now. If it were truly easy, maybe you would have never gotten to this point -- the bullying, self-absorbed point-- at all. If change were easy…

But it’s not. You’re learning with every day that it’s not. Just when you think you’ve done it, you’re not a bully anymore, you don’t tromp on others just because it’s fun, something comes up, and you’re back at square one. It seems hopeless. You sort of ask Sirius for help, but all he says is, “Yeah, we’ll try to do better. No big deal, mate!” You can’t rely on Remus because although you know he’ll help you in whatever way he can -- he has _always_ been helping you in what way he can -- he doesn’t speak up enough. And you can’t stand it, that disappointed look he gives the floor _after_ you’ve messed up. But that’s all you get.

You want to be something better. You want to be like your father, who fights for good causes and who everyone respects because he’s simply a good man. You know exactly who you want to be, but it seems impossible. You want to slip away to Chloe and lean back and have fun, no expectations, no judgment, just simple, clean fun. This mission you’ve set for yourself is so impossible, you’re almost ready to give it up, find something else to fill you up, forget what other people think and feel.

Almost, but in the end, you can’t. You can’t give up. And eventually, you realize it’s because it’s a choice. A choice to change. And you made that choice. You still have a long way to go, you may never, ever come close to who you want to be, but you made the decision to try.

And although this goal of your seems overwhelming, even depressing at times, you hold on to that one change you’ve made. That decision. To try.

So you do. You try. 

* * *

You find out one day that maybe your motives weren’t completely pure. Evans has been snapping at you. Really, it’s normal. Really, you shouldn’t care.

But something’s different, now, and it makes you mad. Evans makes not effort to keep her voice down. You know her lines pretty well. Arrogant, conceited, bully, toerag, prat -- It’s nothing new. But it’s grating on you.

Honestly, the two of you rarely interact anymore. But when you do, it’s never fun. It’s not nearly as bad as it was last year, when you were chasing after her, before Chloe. But Evans still rolls her eyes a lot when she hears you talk. She doesn’t laugh at your pranks. You wouldn’t mind so much, you really wouldn’t, if it weren’t for one thing. Every time you speak out against that ridiculous pureblood doctrine, Evans rolls her eyes and mutters, “hypocrite.”

Hypocrite? You? You’ve never, _ever_ judged anyone because of who their parents were! You don’t care about blood or any of that! Your best friend’s a werewolf, for Merlin’s sake!

But, no, you remember. You’re as bad as a Death Eater.

The truth, the hard, painful truth? Evans hasn’t changed her attitude towards you at all, despite everything you’ve done to change. And that’s what upsets you.

It all comes to a head one day when Evans storms up to you, face red, furious and your wand is out, pointed at two students backed up against the wall.

“POTTER!”

You try to explain. “ _T_ _hey_ were the ones bullying! They were calling people -- they were calling them --”

“What, Mudbloods? You think one word makes it okay?”

“I’m just trying to stop them --”

“From doing the same thing you do every day? You hypocrite!”

You scream at each other until Slughorn, looking mildly shocked, breaks you up. You each lose points for Gryffindor, and Evans claims it’s all your fault.

It’s just so bloody unfair! You had your wand out because those Slytherins had their wands out first! What were you supposed to do, lie down flat and let them hex you? You weren’t trying to hurt anyone. You were trying to _stop_ anyone from getting hurt.

If she would just let you explain… If she could just see beyond the arrogant little prat you used to be…

But no, of course not. You should know better than that. Even when you were fifteen and possibly the biggest idiot to walk the earth, you understood this one thing.

Lily Evans does not pay attention to you.

She doesn’t even notice you. You remember being fifteen, and it had been four years, and you weren’t even sure she knew your first name. She only knew your _last_ because for some reason the fates hated you and she was friends with the creep Severus Snape. You _always_ noticed her. Even when you didn’t fancy her, you always _noticed_. But she couldn’t care less about you. You might catch everyone else’s attention just by walking in the room, but not Lily Evans’. So you went louder, more extravagant, more over the top whenever she was around, just to catch her attention. And finally, you had it. Lily Evans noticed you –- but only ever if you were doing something wrong.

And… It was as true now as ever. You have been trying to change. You’re doing good things like helping people out with homework, speaking out against You-Know-Who, explaining quidditch (nicely). You’ve really cut back on any sort of cruel jokes. You can even go a week without the threat of detention -- though both you and Sirius feel this is an affront to your identities as Marauders. But Evans doesn’t care because Evans hasn’t seen it. To her, you’re still that arrogant, bullying toerag she screamed at by the lake last year, and her opinion isn’t going to change.

Because Lily Evans only ever notices you when you do something wrong.

There it is. That one irreparable fact. You can’t change Evans’ opinion because as soon as you start to change or do good or whatever it is you’re doing, she forgets you exist. And it’s not like you’re changing for her. You don’t even care about her. But you wanted to prove her wrong. You see it, in your heart of hearts. This hasn’t been all about you or who you want to be. It’s been about her, too. You want her to see that you’re different than she thought you were. You wanted to prove to her that you are a good person.

And it’s not going to happen.

You never will change Lily Evans’ opinion of you. You have often thought, on this journey of yours, that what you’re trying to do is so hard is might just be impossible, but this literally _is_ impossible. No matter how good you become, not matter how much you change, Evans will never see it. She doesn’t care, she won’t notice, and she’ll never think better of you.

There are some things, you realize, that you can’t change.

At first, you’re angry. You act out a bit, just so Evans will come over and you can yell back at her, but eventually, you realize this is something out of your control. You screwed up mightily in the past and as much as you’d like it go back, do it over, you don’t get to. You made your choice, and you only got to make it once. So you are permanently engrained in Evans’ mind as one of the worst beings to walk the earth.

At first, yes, you were angry, but before long, you start thinking in another route. Evans might hate you forever, but she’s okay. She doesn’t suffer from that. What about the others? What about the kids you made fun of, even made cry? What about those you’d humiliated before you’d realized just how humiliating being bullied could be? What if they can’t change either?

What if it’s like Remus, who despite being friends with you for _years_ is still so afraid of rejection that he won’t tell you off when he should? What if they’re hurt like Sirius, who said he didn’t care about his family, but a month after running away from home pulled the cruelest prank he’d ever come up with? The one _you_ had to fix? What if like Peter… Well, no, there’s nothing really wrong with Peter. But he feels like without you guys he’d be bullied, and you don’t like that.

 What if for someone it’s your fault?

And you know these things don’t actually fix. They get better, but they don’t fix.

It’s a hard realization to make. When you decided you needed to change, you thought you could fix everything up. You thought you could stop a few things, be a little nicer, and -- ta-duh! -- everything would all right. Like correcting your homework, you rub out the wrong answers with your eraser, write in the right ones, and turn it in again for a perfect score. But it doesn’t work like that. You don’t get an eraser in life.

You wanted to prove Lily Evans wrong. Or you wanted to get rid of that nagging sensation deep in your stomach. Or you wanted to prove that you were as cool and awesome as you really thought you were.

Whatever it was, you’re not getting it. Whatever it was you wanted to be won’t be possible. Unfortunately, all the repentance in the world can’t undo your sins. You’re just going to have to keep moving forward and learn to live with what you’ve done. 

* * *

But… Why? _Why_ is it so hard to do the right thing? Especially when you want it this badly? Why are you only cut out to make trouble? 

* * *

You talk to Sirius. It’s late, and Peter is off sneaking food for Remus who is in the hospital wing. The two of you are discussing ways to get revenge on Snape for -- well, you can’t exactly remember what for, but he deserves it. The enmity between you hasn’t softened at all over the year.

But at some point in your brainstorming session, you lean back and sigh, “Maybe we shouldn’t do that.”

Sirius fixes you with a wary glare. “You aren’t about to lose all your fun, are you?”

“No,” you say quickly. “But it’s just that -- You know we’ve gone overboard with pranks on Snape before.” Sirius suddenly looks furious -- You know why, he thinks you’re referring to _his_ prank last year -- but you press on anyway. “Padfoot, I’m just saying it might not hurt to error on the side of too nice.”

“And then Snivellus will curse you behind your back, and that won’t hurt _at all --_ ”

“ _Padfoot_.”

“Are you quitting the Marauders?” demands Sirius.

“No!” you shout. “Of course not! And I’m not quitting ‘fun’ either! I’m just saying that we’ve done some things that crossed the line before, and we shouldn’t repeat that.”

Sirius’s eyes are narrowed. After studying you carefully, he says, “Is this about Evans?”

“No, this is not about Lily bloody Evans!”

“Yeah? Only, she turned you down big time last year, and you’ve been a little off ever since.”

“So she said some things that knocked some sense into me. Doesn’t mean this is _about_ her.”

“Yeah, all right then,” says Sirius. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. You scowl at him. After a minute, Sirius sits up from his longing position on his bed and looks at you. “You’re serious about this.”

“Of course I am!” you snap. But after a second, what comes out has far less venom than you would have expected. “I just don’t want to be an arrogant, bullying, toerag.” _Or a Death Eater_. But you can’t say that one out loud.

Sirius fixes you with a hard look and then stretches out on his bed again. “You know, just because it’s Evans doesn’t mean she isn’t out of order sometimes,” he says firmly.

“Even if she is,” you say, “doesn’t mean she isn’t right.” You fiddle with a piece of parchment sticking out your nightstand drawer. “Hexing people just for fun -- we shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t still be doing that.”

Sirius is giving you that careful, trusting stare you’re pretty sure no one has seen on his face but you. “You sure about this, Prongs?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I am.”

“All right then,” says Sirius. This time, it means something entirely different. 

* * *

And still, you keep falling short. Worse, you’re starting to see why. You try to ignore it, because you really, _really_ don’t want it to be true. And then you procrastinate doing what you know you need to do because you never imagined you’d have to give up something this good.

The problem is your girlfriend.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with _Chloe_. She’s brilliant; she’s sweet. You know she’d never, ever want to be cruel. She worries over _cats_ for Merlin’s sake. And, really, truly, _honestly_ , it’s not in any way her fault. She just likes to laugh --  And you completely lose your head around her.

You start showing off for her, and you forget every promise you’ve made to yourself to be better. She starts laughing, and all you think about it how to make her laugh harder. Your world narrows, and she does nothing to hold you back. Not that it’s her job to hold you back. No, heaven knows you should have enough self-control to hold yourself back. Chloe should be able to lean back and laugh while you operate under your own fully-functioning conscience. But you don’t, and she can’t.

It’s awful because it’s not her fault, it’s all yours, but you know it’s going to hurt her anyway. You’re starting to think that life is a very awful, painful thing. And it seems that way because you’re in it. But this is life, you can’t change the past, though you are trying unbelievably hard to change who you are, and eventually, you just have to do it.

You try to do it nicely. You try to explain that you still think she’s amazing and she didn’t do anything wrong -- you’re just a miserable shmuck who can’t seem to get things right. But you see her coming out of the loo later with red eyes and Evans’ arm around her.

You shmuck.

You tried. But you’re still a shmuck. 

* * *

Days bleed into weeks, and before you know it, you’re home for the Easter holidays with Sirius. Around the third day, your mother traps you in the kitchen and starts working that concerned mother voodoo that really shouldn’t work on you and make you divulge your deepest secrets, but for some reason it does. You find yourself leaning against the counter, staring at a cup of tea between your hands, and spilling out all your worries and struggles to change. You talk for over an hour. When at last you can’t seem to figure out words for how you feel anymore, you go to swirling a finger in your now cold tea.

You mother touches your cheek. “ _James_.”

You flinch away because you think she’s only to tell you you’re perfect just the way you are, and you just don’t believe it anymore.

She sort of says what you expect. “It’s a very brave things you’re doing, trying to change.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter grumpily to your teacup. “I’m not any good at it.”

“Aw, James, that’s because you’re trying to be someone you’re not.”

“Great. Thanks for that.”

“ _James_ ,” says your mother as she strokes your cheek again. “You’re not going to get better by just trying _not_ to be something. You need to start from where you are. If you want to be better, start by trying to make other people happy. You have plenty of talents. Make people laugh!”

“I’ve always made people laugh,” you say. “But I still everything wrong.”

Your mother purses her lips, her eyes appraising you. “Yes,” she says, “But were you doing that make other people laugh or to build up yourself?”

You never mention it between the two of you again during break, but you feel better all the same. 

* * *

You and Sirius have always been firmly against the pureblood doctrine, but now you’re actively fighting it. You shut up anyone who uses the word “Mudblood.” Evans might not like your methods, but this isn’t about her. You aren’t hexing people just for fun anymore. There’s a war going on out there, and someone has got to fight against it in here. If that means you, so be it. The other purebloods don’t seem to be stepping up.

You start standing up for anyone who seems weaker than you. Some of them seem fairly shocked, but you decide not to let it bother you. Or, at least, you try to. It’s taken you a long time to realize that power imbalances aren’t just Death Eaters against Muggles, but you’ve got to do something now that you know. 

* * *

Evans and her boyfriend broke up. You don’t know why. Now that it’s over, you can admit that he really was a nice guy. 

* * *

Is Sirius pulling you leg, or are you really getting more popular than ever? Especially with the girls? What on earth has made them think you’re suddenly more attractive? Or has your unsuccessful efforts to change given you the same brooding look that girls find so irresistible in Sirius? Whatever it is, you do your best to ignore it. You’ve learned your lesson about ego fluffing. 

* * *

Gryffindor wins the House Cup. Because of you, of course. But you had a good team. A very good team. In fact, you think sipping butterbeer during the after-party, they’d probably be able to win the Cup on their own. And come two years, you won’t around anyway. You decide you’re going to change you’re agenda next year as captain. No need for you to score an unbelievable amount of goals alone. Instead, you’re going to focus on giving your team as much experience and training as you can.

No point in Gryffindor losing the Cup just because you’re not there anymore. 

* * *

You, you’re doing okay. You’re in the middle of summer, but for the first time in your life, you feel like you have a handle on what’s fun and what’s out of line. You’re not perfect, and it’s much easier to do the right thing when you’re home and the only people to tease are your parents and the Muggles who you always knew better than to jinx anyway, but you think you’re doing better. You think you _are_ better. Not that you don’t have room for improvement, because you do, but no one could accuse you of being like a Death Eater anymore.

Well, Evans might. But you already know you can’t change her. And it’s not _true._

So, of course, just when you’re thinking you might almost have a handle on things, your life gets turned upside down. It comes mid-August, and the culprit is a small, innocent looking envelope.

You _thought_ it just the school books list, but when you open it, your doom spills out in the form of a small, silver badge. And it’s not for the quidditch captaincy.

Some fool of a person -- Dumbledore, to be exact -- has made you Head Boy.

* * *

Your mother’s delighted, of course. And your father’s proud of you. Sirius laughs himself silly for days. Remus smiles and says you deserve it, though really, it should be him with the badge. Only Peter isn’t surprised. You don’t know if that makes him smarter or crazier than the rest of you. 

* * *

Walking down the Hogwarts Express for your last year, you’re different. You don’t really notice it because you’re not so much concerned about what everyone thinks of you as you are about the implications of the new badge on your chest. But when people call out to you, you grin and wave back, whether they’re cool or not. No one feels the need to avoid you except those purebloods whose choice of vocabulary has found them on the wrong end of your wand one too many times. Your walk is cool, confident, level-headed. You look like someone admirable.

But you don’t register any of this. You’re too worried about what will happen in the next five minutes when you walk into that prefect’s carriage. You know who the Head Girl has to be, and you know how much this probably means to her. She’s sure to think you’re going to blow this the same way you would have at fifteen. But you have changed, so naturally you think you _are_ going to screw this up as badly as you would have at fifteen.

You stand outside the door, gathering up your courage for Evans’ outrage. You’ve become a very different person from who you were two years ago. But Evans, who only ever notices you when you’re in the wrong, doesn’t know that. You thought you’d come to terms with that, but the fates (or Dumbledore) have intervened and here you are again, in desperate need of her good opinion -- though for a very different reason now. After all you’ve faced in the last year, this might be your biggest challenge yet. You know it won’t be easy. In fact, you still think it might very well be impossible.

But hey -- that’s never been something to stop you before.


End file.
